


The Start of the End

by halefire



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Road Trips, Slow Burn, War Veteran Bucky Barnes, Zombie Apocalypse, i don't know how to tag this without spoiling so i'm gonna stop, like really slow burn, probably no smut, technically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 15:40:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5972608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halefire/pseuds/halefire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The outbreak that scientists swore up-and-down wouldn't happen happens. Nobody is surprised, but almost nobody is prepared.. After years of research with his mentor, Steve Rogers just might have the cure. He needs to get it almost halfway across the country. And, well? Bucky Barnes has nowhere better to be.</p><p>***Never meant to just stop writing, but depression hit hard. Might pick it back up one day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Start of the End

When Bucky came home from the war, the fact that he was always on edge was irritating. After the 'Start of the End', as he liked to call it, it became an asset. Now, it seemed, it was somebody else's luck. It all came together, really; he was reluctant to set up camp on the ground, so he'd found a way to the top of a building, putting him out of direct reach of both feeders and humans. Made him less vulnerable. More importantly, it gave him a good view of everything around him. A good enough view to notice the small crowd of feeders flocking to the same area. He moved to look over the short wall for the source of interest. Not even a second after he figured out what they were being attracted to, the gunshots started rounding off. He considered leaving whoever was down there to fend for themselves, but with a closer look, he felt a rush of concern. It was a kid down there. He quickly felt around for the sniper rifle he'd managed to keep hold of and prayed that his own gunfire wouldn't startle the kid into doing something stupid. He took his first shot, years of practice making a headshot easy to achieve. He took another shot. Picking them off was easy, but he had expected the sound to draw the feeders to him, instead of the kid. Picking them off got significantly less easy, when the kid ran into an alleyway and out of Bucky's sight, the feeders right on his trail. "Shit."

Bucky launched himself from his place behind the wall and down his makeshift stairs, pulling out his knife with ease. He managed to make it into the alley before the kid was dead, and not a moment too soon. The kid had four of them pinning him, and he was just barely keeping their teeth from his flesh. Bucky spurred into action, jerking the feeders off of him one by one, driving his knife through their heads. He didn't even get to look at the kid before he shot off at the mouth.

  
"What the hell is your _problem_?!"

And, whoa. Not the voice of a kid.

"What?"

"I had everything under control."

Bucky didn't even try to conceal his amusement, giving the guy in front of him a slow-once over. Blond hair hung in front of his eyes, though it clearly hadn't been that way before he got caught up with the feeders, judging by the way it was stiff with considerably freshly applied gel. He was dirty, but not _nearly_ as dirty as Bucky would've expected him to be. He himself was completely covered in grime. Of course, that could have been because he hadn't bothered to do anything but the bare minimum to survive since he'd hit town. Not the point. The blond guy was _clean_ , and definitely not used to being outside of whatever walls he'd been holed up behind. It took Bucky a second to realize Mr. Clean was still talking.

"-on the ropes. I didn't need your help."

"Yeah," Bucky cut in. "Tell that to the thing that almost took a bite out of your throat."  
Mr. Clean let out a noise that Bucky imagined would have been similar to the one he'd have made if the thing actually _had_ taken a bite out of his throat. "Look. I don't have all day to stand around and listen to you talk, pal," the guy said, holstering his emptied handgun. "I have much more important shit to do." He made an attempt to march past Bucky and out of the alley, clearly hoping to just be let go, but Bucky stepped quickly into his path.

"You can't expect me to just let you head off like that, right?"

Dread immediately showed on his face. "You're kiddin' me. Right? C'mon, I don't have anything to hand over. I didn't even _ask you_ for help!"

As hard as he tried, Bucky couldn't keep the smirk off of his face. "No, punk. I'm not askin' ya to hand anything over. Just wouldn't be very gentlemanlike of me to let someone like yourself travel alone. Don't know how I could live with myself," he said, making sure to keep his tone playful. The guy still looked offended.

"I can handle myself just fine, thanks."

"Then maybe I just wanna tag along for myself."

"You don't know a thing about me. You don't know if it's safe to follow me. You don't even know where I'm _going_."

Bucky shrugged. "I know there's no way in hell you're getting there on your own." The guy opened his mouth to protest, but Bucky kept talking. "You clearly don't know what you're doin' out here. Don't know where you're comin' from, but it must have been real secure, cause you could barely even take four of those things. I've seen people I love get torn apart, and it took way more than four. Care to tell me where you're going?"

The guy seemed to consider his options for a moment, staring at Bucky, strongly reminding him of a child who'd just been told they weren't allowed to go to the park. "Do I have a choice?"

"No," Bucky replied easily, holding his hand out to the other man. "James Buchanan Barnes. My friends call me Bucky." The man sighed and gripped his hand, giving it a (surprisingly firm, Bucky noted) shake.

"Steve Rogers. I'm headed to Chicago. I work on a team of scientists spread throughout several locations, but I usually have-somebody to transport me between labs. So, yeah. This is new for me."

Bucky grinned. "What a coincidence. I was already headed to Chicago, myself."

"Liar."

His grin grew even wider.

* * *

 

Steve couldn't deny to himself that he was grateful that James had spotted him when he did. As much as he'd like to not need anybody's help, things stopped being about what he would like a long time ago. He probably _could_ handle himself, of course, but he no longer got to settle for "probably."

  
He had been working on a team of scientists since the outbreak, though the stakes for him hadn't been as high as they were now. He was just another baby-faced, hopeful nurse among doctors that thought he could help. He began working directly under Dr. Peggy Carter within weeks, having been personally selected by her. The cure was _just_ at their fingertips, when Dr. Carter was torn apart before his eyes, leaving him to work in a lab that felt emptier every day. It was about a week and a half ago that Steve came closer to the cure than he ever had. The discovery was what began his first journey where not only was his partner and mentor missing, but his life had newfound value. He wasn't able to put himself in danger, like he was so quick to do before.

  
Steve shook himself out of his own thoughts, reminding himself that he needed to pay attention to where James was leading him, should he need to escape. As it turns out, not very far. He watched in slight awe as the man effortlessly lifted himself onto the first level of what was probably meant to be stairs. Steve, however, wasn't so sure if he'd call them that. They were made of several stacked storage crates- or dumpsters, he wasn't sure- and looked as though they might collapse at any moment. He briefly wondered how the hell James stacked them himself, but then again, he _did_ mention watching loved ones be torn apart. Steve absently noticed that James appeared to be waiting for him to do something, but still stayed where he was standing.

  
"Are those safe to climb on?"

  
James rolled his eyes and gestured for him to come closer. "Of course. Been usin' em long enough, they'd have collapsed by now, if they were going to."

"I hope you realize that's not how it works at _all_ ," Steve muttered, making his way over to where he was told to nonetheless. To his relief and slight surprise, James wasn't expecting him to try and pull himself onto the "stairs." He helped pull Steve up, level by level, until they were hoisting themselves over the low wall, both panting softly- Steve more so than James. He took a moment to check out the man's setup. "Awfully comfortable for somebody headed to Chicago," he stated, earning a sharp laugh from the other.

"Yeah, well, I had a feeling I was supposed to be waitin' up for someone," James explained with an amused smile.

  
"I'm real lucky, then. Must be the Irish blood." Though he hadn't exactly been willing to follow the man at first, Steve relished in the way James could brighten everything around them. He hadn't had any conversations like this since he'd lost Dr. Carter- didn't really care to. He'd taken a long time to mourn, and he didn't see reason to build relationships even after that. The men and women in the labs were all either strictly business or all play, and neither of those were things that he wanted to be involved with. This guy was nothing like them. He needed to be careful, with this guy.

He couldn't afford to let anything cloud his sight. He had a cure to deliver.

 


	2. Changes

It'd been almost a week since James had told him that he'd be taking him to Chicago. Steve was practically vibrating with frustration; James wouldn't leave, but he wouldn't let Steve leave without him either. And to add to his frustration, James had been sneaking off to who even _knew_  where every night, as though Steve was too stupid to realize.

 

Then again, maybe if he was smarter, he'd figure out where exactly he was going. But that was besides the point. The point was that Steve had been as patient as he could possibly be, and _nothing_ had happened. That ended today, though. Steve was waiting for James to come back, his confrontation planned out entirely. Of course, it might have gone better if he wasn't so thrown off by James' cheery greeting.

 

"Mornin', Stevie! What's got you up so early?" The smile on his face was too bright to be even close to believable.

 

Steve spluttered for a second, struggling to find the words that he had planned, and decided to forgo his prepared script completely. The irritation had been building up too long. "What the hell do you mean, _'mornin', Stevie_ ,'" he snapped in an awful impression of James' voice. "You've been disappearing every night, like somehow I wouldn't fuckin' notice, and now that you know you're caught, all you can say is good morning?!" He was left a little breathless after his rant, but he did his best to conceal that. His face was already red, he was sure, but he felt it grow darker with anger when he noticed the amused look on James' face. He realized afterwards, in the brief quiet, how loud his voice had risen.

 

"I'm not completely unaware, y'know. In fact, I'd say I'm the most aware person you'll ever meet."

"What?"

"Oh, come on. It's not that unbelievable, is it? I think I look the part."

"No, you ass. You knew I was awake? Where the hell were you going?"

"Yeah. Ya' think we can get all the way to Chicago without buildin' up supplies, first?"

Steve frowned and tilted his chin higher, trying to make his stance firmer. "I want to leave. By tomorrow. The sooner, the better."

"Stevie, we can't just up and go. It's Chicago. You ever walked to Chicago, Stevie?" James gave him a pointed look, but kept talking before Steve could answer. "No. That's because it's fuckin' forever away. There's no way in hell we're gettin' there on foot. Or without supplies."

Steve still wouldn't let himself be swayed. "We'll find a car, then. I'm leaving tomorrow. At the latest. With or without you following."

James didn't say anything in response- not that Steve expected much. If James didn't want to follow him, he wasn't going to push him to. He'd be better off getting himself there anyway. He couldn't keep the disbelief from his face when James brushed past him to his bag and turned to shove a large weapon into his hands. "You know how to shoot?"

Steve shook his head slowly. "Not with a gun like this."

"You're gonna need to. Trigger here- keep your finger off 'till you're ready to shoot- and make sure the safety is off, when you do. Reload like this. Aim if you can, but if not, just don't hit me. Or yourself, obviously." James pulled a sleek black knife from his pocket and pressed the handle into Steve's hand. "Don't get close. But if you do, go right for the head."

"Well, I know that."

James grinned. "Just makin' sure, that's all. We'll need some set form of words-free communication, eventually, but we'll improvise for now. If I say we need to get the hell out of there, we get the hell out of there. Let's go."

* * *

 

It took them nearly all day to find a car that hadn't been destroyed by nature or some other force.

Steve was just about ready to give up and walk to Chicago, James' disapproval be damned, when James grabbed onto his arm.

"Far up. Left side. You see it?"

Steve let out an irritated sigh. How the hell was he supposed to answer, if he didn't know what he was _looking_ for? The asshole could at least point to what he was talking about. Still, Steve did as he was told and looked where James wanted him to. It took him a second to notice it, but he knew what he was looking at as soon as he did.

"Is that a minivan?"

"Yessir, it is."

"It's surrounded by infected."

"Yessir, it is."

"How the hell are we supposed to get a minivan surrounded by the infected? And if it doesn't work? Then what?"

James shrugged. "That's only if. You got another idea, I'm happy to hear it."

"Fine," Steve sighed. "How are we doing this? Just charging in and firing?"

"It sounds stupid, when you put it like that," he joked, earning a hard look from Steve. "Oh, _relax_. We weave through. Avoid trouble. Move quick and silent. Don't fire unless you absolutely have to."

"And if I have to?"

"We'll have a way bigger problem on our hands."

His nervousness must have showed clearly on his face, because James gave him a self-assured smile. "I've got ya', Stevie. Just stick close and we'll be fine."

Steve was still extremely reluctant, but immediately fell into step behind James as he started towards their target.

* * *

James was like an entirely different person, when he was on a mission. His face was wiped blank, yet his eyes stayed sharp and calculating. He had a certain grace to his step, at a glance. But if you were to really look, to really watch, you'd know it wasn't just graceful. It was predatory. He walked as though he was death itself, silent and cold. Fluid, as though he were nothing but a cloud of smoke, yet solid and unyielding to any force but himself. Steve was briefly given the image of a painting, striking shades of blacks, grays, browns. Deep red staining the skin of the figure in the center of the canvas, sharply contrasting against the muted colors around it. A sense of danger and excitement.

He was snapped out of his reverie when something slammed into him, easily knocking him off of his feet. The thing was dead on top of him before he could even process it, but it was too late. Steve had cried out when he fell, effectively drawing the attention of the surrounding infected. Not even a second after Steve realized what he'd done, James was already shooting.

Steve wrestled the body off of him and scrambled up, pressing in as close to James as he could without getting in the way. He took out the gun that James had given him and tried to hit whatever he could, consciously ignoring the way the gun kicked back against his shoulder.

He noted with slight guilt that he wasn't landing any kills- just slowing them down for James to finish the job. He was sure that James expected that, though. He did warn him that he'd never fired this sort of weapon. Still, he felt like he should be doing more. He filed the thought away for later, because James had grabbed his arm and started leading him out of the mass of infected.

 

It was over almost as quickly as it began. James moved fast, didn't stop for any reason. Before Steve even processed that they reached their van, he was being pushed into it, the heavy door sliding shut behind him. He faintly registered a warm hand patting his face. A low voice in his ears, though he couldn't focus on what it was saying.

"-evie?" James' face swam into his vision, concern clear.

"Buck- It's- asthma. M'fine." He fumbled with his bag for a moment, vaguely aware of the way James didn't take his eyes off of him until he had his lips around his inhaler. He was given about two minutes to get himself a under control before James opened his mouth.

"Why the hell didn't y'tell me you had asthma? Do you know how stupid that was?"

"It's not like it woulda changed the fact that we needed this van." Steve figured it was best to cut James off before the argument escalated. "Let's start this thing, eh?"

James looked as though he wanted to say something, but instead climbed into the front, Steve following suit.

It took a minute that had both of them holding their breath, but the van started, albeit with an awful noise.

"Ha- what'd I tell ya, Stevie? It all worked out."

Steve rolled his eyes and started digging through the car's compartments.

"Holy shit. Look."

"No way. That a CD?"

He shot James a wordless grin and inserted a disk with the words "Dad's Mix" scrawled in fading sharpie on its surface into the port. A song they both immediately recognized began to play.

_I still don't know what I was waiting for_

_And my time was running wild_

_A million dead-end streets_

_And every time I thought I'd got it made_

_It seemed the taste was not so sweet_

_So I turned myself to face me_

_But I've never caught a glimpse_

_Of how the others must see the faker_

_I'm much too fast to take that test_

_Ch-ch-ch_ kkkkkkkkkkkkk

Steve sighed as the song dissolved into static. He had been excited at the idea of the CD working, wasn't surprised that it didn't. What did surprise him was James' voice lowly picking up the song.

"Turn and face the strange."

He gave James an amused look, but slowly joined in. "... Ch-ch-changes."

"Don't wanna be a richer man! Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes!"

"Turn and face the strange!"

"Ch-ch-changes!"

"Just gonna have to be a different man!" With that, James stepped on the gas, each of them singing over the snarling of the infected outside of their windows. "Time may change me-"

"But I can't trace time!" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen i lowkey hate this and i might rewrite it but probably not bc i'm a trash baby
> 
> anywyas. yes i know it's problematic but this song is my current anthem fr this fic. aside from the ones that spoil. listen jsut. picture those nerds singin along to dad music. u know they would
> 
> also i wanna make note of the fact that this is the first chapter steve calls bucky by buck bc bucky doesn't acknowledge it so i feel like i gotta
> 
> the authors notes are longer than the chapter at this point...

**Author's Note:**

> i have the plot and where i want it to go completely figured out, but i still need help brainstorming some of the stuff in between the bigger/plotted things. please don't be shy. help a poor soul


End file.
